Ten Minutes Until the End
by Person4
Summary: A series of vignettes each focusing on one of the Endless in the minutes before and after Dream's death.
1. Death: For the Love of You

She wasn't allowed to actually take life, unless her realm was threatened. She helped those who had lost it on to the next realm, she eased their journey (or hindered it, if it was sufficiently deserved). She did not kill.  
  
She had to remind herself that again and again, as she stood in the corner of a little shit hole apartment building, staring at the woman who she knew would kill her brother.  
  
She was not allowed to kill, and yet it would be so easily to step forward, break the pathetic little circle that protected Lyta, and snap her neck. Slit her throat. Maybe just destroy her fragile little mind. Anything it took to save him.  
  
She'd never felt like this before, she'd never actually wanted to kill. She'd never felt rage building up inside her, causing a pressure behind her forehead and her fists to clench so tightly that her fingernails cut into the flesh and, if she had been human, blood would have welled.  
  
She wanted to kill her, wanted it desperately, and she might just do so. After all, not all harm was physical. Dream's death... it would hurt her more then anything she could imagine. It was true that there would be another, and the Powers that Be (cruel bastards that they were) just expected that everyone would be fine with pretending he was the only one, that none had come before. And if it were any other of her siblings she may have been able to do just that. But with Morpheus....  
  
He would not thank her if she went through with it. He would bluster, and rage, and most likely refuse to talk with her for a century or two. But he would be alive, and well.  
  
And eventually he'd just unconsciously arrange his death once again. Despite her love for him, she didn't know how to make him happy again. She could be there for him, and she could support him as much as she could, but unless he could release his heart from the pain of killing Orpheus he would never again be content.  
  
"I know you're there," said the witch-woman (what name was she going by now? Trikala? Magnisia?), staring intently into the corner she was in. "I'm not quite sure which one you are, though I have my guesses. So, are you going to do it?"  
  
She said all this calmly, her face expressionless, and suddenly Death hated her more then she'd ever contemplated possible. Lyta at least had never had any fondness for Dream, or he for her. She at least had misplaced grief over her son driving her actions. But Dream had loved the witch. Loved her enough to go with Delirium on her quest in the hopes of finding her. She had once claimed to love him as well. How could she sell him out for so little? Her face hardened as she made herself visible. "Why did you do it... Karditsa?"  
  
"Larissa." The witch shrugged, and pushed up her glasses. "A few things I've done in the past will be forgotten. A debt or two will be repaid. I'll live awhile longer. What does it matter? I'm sure he'll find a way around it, the cunning bastard. It's not as though they were asking me to kill him myself."  
  
"No. I don't believe he'll find away around it. I believe he might sabotage himself."  
  
"Hmm." If Death didn't know better she'd almost think that was a flicker of grief in the witch-woman's eye. "I can't do a thing about that, but the circle is cast against Dream alone. You can always cross it." She reached into her bag and pulled out a sharp knife, and handed it to Death. "I'll even give you a weapon to do it with."  
  
The witch watched Death intently as she looked from the knife to Lyta. She loved Death. She loved him enough to break the laws that bond her, to kill.  
  
His life was miserable.  
  
She loved him.  
  
She loved him enough to let him go.  
  
The knife fell to the ground as she vanished. 


	2. Desire: Too Late

Desire wandered slowly though the darkened veins of it's realm, taking in parts of it's body it hadn't bothered seeing in years. It didn't really focus on anything however, instead looking inwards, to where her brothers presence was flickering like a candle about to gutter out.   
  
It had claimed for years that this was what it itself desired, it's pompous older brother finally getting his just desserts. But, if it was honest with itself, it knew that this was never what it had wanted. It had wanted Dream to finally lose one of their little encounters, and to acknowledge that he had lost. But it would never have actually gone through with calling the Kindly Ones on it's brothers head had he spilt family blood. It would have been enough to know that it was possible.  
  
Now, in it's brother's final hours, it recalled the dawn days of time. Back when there wasn't a single species that had achieved true sentience, when all any of them dreamed of was food and sex. And that was all they'd desired as well.  
  
Back then it and it's brother had been very close, more so then to any of their other siblings. Their realms had been so close together that they were almost one in some places, and they had whiled away many long hours together.   
  
Then evolution happened, and he had changed. Not as drastically as Delirium of course, but it had still happened. There realms had grown apart, his had expanded, and he became more uptight and obsessed with responsibility with every century that passed. And who knows, perhaps Desire had changed itself, though it had never noticed doing so. It came to a point that they only got along as well as they'd used to when they both happened to be visiting a primitive world, and then one day they just didn't get at all.  
  
For the first time in a very long while, Desire regretted the way they'd grown apart. It realised that it might even be feeling guilt, something that had been completely absent in it's life before then. If it had made more of an effort to get past Dream's stuffy personality perhaps they could have worked around it. Perhaps it would have been able to help him now that he was in need. It didn't like this alien feeling, it was far to late to change the past, and foolish to want to.  
  
It realised that without noticing it, it had summoned the flower that had sprung from Orpheus' blood to itself. It was still perfectly preserved, and it was clutching it hard enough to crush the delicate blossom. Yes, that was something to feel guilt over, if it needed to feel it. That had been it's fault, in a way. It hadn't known it would end that way, it had simply decided it wanted to give a gift to it's nephew, and manipulated events to guide Orpheus to the woman who was his perfect match. Then it had all fallen to pieces and ultimately lead to Dream killing the boy. So really, it had done the thing it had sworn to do. It was it's fault the Kindly Ones were hounding him.  
  
Strangely, the thought made it feel even worse. Shouldn't it feel triumphant? Instead they was a strange churning in it's stomach, and liquid seeping from it's eyes. Not tears of course, it couldn't be tears. It was Desire of the Endless, it did not cry. Especially not over an overbearing blowhard who accused it of wrongdoing every time his life went a little wrong. It must be too bright in here or something.  
  
Ignoring the fact that it was almost pitch black, and even if it was bright Desire's eyes would simply adjust themselves to it.  
  
Would Dream bleed, it wondered as it breathed in the scent of Orpheus' flower. Would part of him become flowers? Would they be beautiful, and smell as lovely as his son's?   
  
Suddenly the presence within it disappeared all together, and it's heart lurched. It had spent to long reflecting, it realised. It had wanted to say good-bye, but it was now too late. There would never be any sort of reconciliation, it would never be able to tell him it was sorry for everything that had happened between them. It would never be able to tell him anything at all.  
  
He was gone.  
  
Then slowly, almost hesitantly, a new presence appeared. Similar, but defiantly different, softer somehow.   
  
And it realised that maybe, maybe this time things would be different. 


	3. Delirium: The Pain I Hear Coming

Her big brother was gone now. Gone like the other Despair. Gone like Delight, except not so much because Delight wasn't actually gone, she was just her now.   
  
Her brother was gone now, gone like the dinosaurs whose great hoary bones she'd seen once in a museum her oldest sister had taken her to. Gone like the dodos, the strange appearance of which had many times caused her to laugh gleefully before they'd disappeared.  
  
Her brother was gone, and there was a strange breaky sensation somewhere inside of her. She thought that the outside might follow suit, that she might burst into a multitude of crystalline pieces, coloured in shades of cerulean, jade, carmine, saffron. Glittering shards, maybe forming a picture of him in remembrance, like the great windows that were in his castle.  
  
But no, the breaking within didn't herald a shattering of self. It just hurt, long and deep, like she'd lost something precious. Which she supposed was proper, since that's what had happened.   
  
At least she'd gotten her doggie back. She wished, however, that she could tell whatever beings had guided the events of the past few days that that didn't make up for it. Her doggie was the bestest best doggie in the world, but while Dream wasn't the bestest best brother ever, he was more important. She felt a little bad for thinking this, because Barnabas had been so happy to see her, and she'd looked for him so long it seemed like it wasn't right to think anything was more important then him. She was sure he'd understand if he ever found out though.  
  
She had gotten small, and was curled up on the face of her sundial. She didn't like it, but he had so she wanted to be there. She clutched her knees tightly to her chest, bicoloured eyes clenched tightly closed against the tears stinging at their corners. Barnabas was on his hind legs, supporting himself on the sundials edge and covering her bare arm with slobbery doggie kisses to try and cheer her up, but she was oblivious to him. She just curled up into a tighter ball, doing her best to stifle the breaking.   
  
Something shifted inside of her, and she was suddenly startlingly aware that she was starting to change again. Barely different at all, just the very beginning of change. She hadn't noticed it happening the last time, not until it was all over and she could look back with the clarity of hindsight and see the way it started, centuries before it ended. Her eyes flew open and she whimpered slightly, the edges of her body slowly beginning to melt into a profusion of colours.   
  
She wanted someone there, someone other then her doggie, a member of her family. But her gallery was still lost, and it was rude at the best of times to barge into one another's realms. Now, when it would intrude on any mourning they wished to do in the privacy of their own little world it would almost be considered a crime.  
  
"Barnabas," she moaned, flinging one melting arm around his neck, eyes staring unseeingly into the bedlam of her realm. "Barnabas, I want my brother."  
  
"Which one?" Barnabas asked, gently licking the tears from her face, eyes more concerned then most people could think a dog could look as he took in his lady's obvious suffering. "I'll try to get him, alright? Just tell me which."  
  
But she just groaned, and buried her face in his coat, because her brother was gone now and all that was left was a stranger, and deep inside something changed, and would never be Delirium again.  
  
-------  
  
Hi. Breaking my silence of anything other then story a minute to say a little something about Del's changing.   
  
We all know there've been hints that she's gonna start changing again sometime soon (at least as the Endless measure time). Personally, after flipping through the D section of the dictionary looking for something that's A) Not already covered by one of the others and B) Would suit Del's core personality I finally decided that my best guess for her next self would be Devotion. It seems like if that is the case, then her brother's death would certainly instigate the beginning of the change, and she does seem a bit more composed during The Wake then she normally does, which could be a sign of this.  
  
Next snippet will be Destiny, then Despair, and Destruction comes last. Unless I decide to do one for the new Dream. Thanks to those who've reviewed. I know I'm taking stupidly long to put out parts considering they're just tiny little vignettes. 


End file.
